


Can Do It Myself

by writerstrash



Series: Raising Peter: Superfamily Oneshots [10]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Peter, Fatherhood, Kid Peter, M/M, Parenthood, Superfamily, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-06-26 09:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerstrash/pseuds/writerstrash
Summary: Little Peter growing up and insisting he can be a big boy.





	Can Do It Myself

Steve was sitting at the kitchen bench one morning, just like any other, reading the newspaper and feeding Peter in his highchair. The little boy loved playing with his tiny Hulk action figure during meal times. Possibly due to the fact that when he was even younger, Tony let him Hulk 'smash' pieces of banana before he ate them. It usually resulted in Peter wearing most of the banana and the Hulk toy almost unrecognisable.

"Papa, more," Peter asked, his little hands reaching out for the spoon stuck inside the container of yogurt and blueberries. 

Steve scooped some onto the spoon, lowering Peter's hands so he could have a clear path. But Peter whined, shaking his head.

"No, _I_ do," he insisted.

"You can't," Steve chuckled. "Look at you! You're a mess already and that's with _me_ holding the spoon,"

"I do!" Peter whined.

Steve took some extra off the spoon, grabbing Peter's hand to help him get a grip of the spoon. But he didn't let the boy take it just yet.

"If you're gonna use the spoon, Hulk has to sit down," he explained.

"Noooo," Peter mumbled, lips turning into a frown. 

"Well, then papa holds the spoon,"

"No, I wanna!" 

"Hulk goes down then, Pete."

With a small huff of annoyance, Peter placed his toy down on the tray, looking at it sadly. Steve was sure that Peter was afraid of hurting Hulk's feelings by leaving him out. It was heartwarming to watch the little boy with all of his toys and how gentle and empathetic he could be. But right now Steve needed Peter's full attention.

"Okay, slowly," Steve instructed, helping Peter lead the spoon to his lips. "Careful, careful! Don't hit your gums, buddy. There we go!"

Peter grinned proudly and began giggling with the spoon in his mouth, yogurt spilling out over his lips. Every meal with Peter was messy, but the little boy always had so much fun and always ate everything he was given. But Peter was pushing the boundaries every mealtime now. He wanted to be the one controlling everything, no matter how messy and uncoordinated he was. Tony and Steve tried to give him as much independence as possible, but he was barely a toddler and he still needed guidance.

"Well done Pete!" Steve clapped. "You want some more?"

"More!"

Tony walked into the room a moment later, grinning at the sight of his husband and son sitting at the kitchen bench, mostly covered in their breakfast. Peter had just shoved another spoonful of yogurt into his mouth when he noticed his father, pulling out the utensil and waving it around wildly.

"Dada!" he squealed. "I do! I do!"

Steve grinned beside the boy, adoring how excited he was to show his dad his new skill. 

"You're using the spoon all on your own?" Tony gasped. "Are you a big boy now, huh?"

"I do spoon!" 

Tony moved over to run his finger over Peter's lips, wiping away the stray yogurt. He couldn't help laughing at just how happy and proud his son was. Of course, now that Peter had a somewhat steady understanding of how to use the spoon, he insisted on helping everyone else with their meals too.

When they were all seated for dinner, Peter would take a spoonful of his mashed carrots and hold it up in front of Tony. As unappealing as the orange mush was compared to Tony's actual meal, he couldn't say no to his son's eager little face. Peter would always carefully stare at the spoon until it made it to his father's mouth, mimicking the same care his father's took when feeding him. 

"Mm, thanks Pete!" Tony praised.

But he didn't just insist on feeding his parents. Sometimes when the team were around, Peter would pick up his spoon and basically force the others to accept his food. He had mashed a banana to pieces one day before piling it into a spoon, his chubby little legs waddling over to Natasha who sat on the couch reading, and offered it up.

"Bana?' Peter grinned. 

Natasha looked at the mushy fruit, then back to the wide eyes of the boy holding the spoon.

"You eat your banana, Pete," she smiled.

"No, is for you Aun' Tasha," he shook his head. "I do!"

World's deadliest assassin. Able to hold up against literal torture. Giving in to a toddler with a spoon. 

She leaned forward, opening her mouth has Peter aimed the fruit as best he could. Some of it ended up on her cheeks, but she just laughed and wiped it away. 

"Nice?" Peter asked.

"Yummy," Natasha nodded with a grin, stroking Peter's cheek softly. "You go finish your banana, okay?"

"You wan' some more?" 

"No, you eat it," she sighed. "Gotta eat all your fruit to keep growing, don't you?"

"I grow big!" 

"Yes you will," she laughed. 

But he was already growing so big. It was like they had all blinked and Peter had grown from a newborn to a toddler in seconds. It was all rushing by too quickly. Every milestone was celebrated, every growth-spurt documented, every word and movement Peter made was captured in their memories forever.

Peter did everything he could to be a big boy before his time. His parents knew it was because he was the only child surrounded by adults. He wanted to match them, he wanted to be independent. 

"I do," Peter shook his head, holding his hands up as Steve tried to put on his shoes.

"You're gonna put your shoes on?" he asked, lips quirked into a smile. 

"Uh huh," he nodded. "I can do it,"

"Alright buddy, go ahead,"

The first attempt ended in Peter tripping over almost immediately. The little boy hadn't mastered the concept of tying a knot just yet, or the concept of falling over by tripping on the shoelaces themselves. Steve couldn't hold back his chuckle at Peter's growing frustration.

"You need help there, kiddo?" he asked.

Peter huffed.

"I _can_ do it!"

"I know you can, but do you want papa to help this time? You can watch me do it and next time you'll know exactly what to do,"

Peter thought for a moment.

"Okay, just this time,"

But Peter paid close attention to his father's movements. Fold the lace, wrap the lace, loop the lace, pull the lace. Which meant Peter now knew how to tie knots.

"How many times is he gonna get me!" Clint complained, groaning as he sat up on the cold tiles.

Natasha was laughing, watching the man struggle to gain his feet once again. His shoelaces were tied together in a double knot, once again causing him to fall onto his ass in front of his teammates for the second time in just a few days.

"I thought you could see everything, birdbrain?" Tony quipped, chuckling.

"I can't see under the table," Clint muttered. "Plus, that kid is a freak of nature, he makes like _no_ sound. He's gonna give me a concussion."

"He ties all our laces," Bruce shrugged. "We let him, it's not his fault."

"He ties everyone else's normally, he ties _mine_ together!" 

"He can spot an easy target when he sees one," Natasha smirked.

They could all hear the giggling nearby, turning to see Steve walking into the room with a handful of toddler hanging upside over his shoulder. Peter was in hysterics, and it was hard for the team to avoid joining in.

"Uncle Clint could have been hurt, Pete," Steve scolded.

"He's an old man now Peter, he hasn't got the reflexes he used to," Tony added.

"You know what Stark? You-"

"Tony, we're not encouraging him to tie everyone's laces together," Steve sighed.

"I know," Tony huffed. "But you know what Pete? They're good knots. I think you're a master lace-tier now. But we shouldn't tie anyone's laces together like that, okay? You'll get someone very hurt."

Peter's little smile began to fade away.

"Didn't wanna hurt no one," he admit.

"We know you don't want to hurt anyone," Steve soothed. "But next time you tie someone's laces, you need to tell them, okay?"

"Okay," Peter pouted. "I sorry,"

"It's okay squirt," Clint shook his head. "I've had worse. And your dad's right, they're good knots."

"I did them all myself," the little boy beamed proudly. "I can do it all on my own now!"

"I can see that," Clint laughed. "You're getting sneakier every day, you know that?"

"I sneaky?" Peter asked, looking to his papa. 

Steve chuckled, pressing a kiss to Peter's forehead.

"You are sneaky, Pete. But I can't pick which one of us you learned that from,"

"All of us, probably," Natasha added.

Peter's reign of independent went on and on from there. Every chance he got, he would declare 'I do!' and make his parents sigh and wait patiently for the little boy to complete a small, simple task at twice the length and complexity. 

"I do it!" Peter whined, grabbing the toothbrush from Tony's hand. 

They were in front of the bathroom mirror, Peter perched up on the counter, getting the little boy ready for bed.

"Okay, you know the drill," Tony explained. "Not too hard, okay?"

Peter put the toothbrush in his mouth and began moving it sideways, giggling at the foamy toothpaste that began to cover his lips. Tony watched on in amusement as Peter concentrated on scrubbing every tooth he could find. Soapy drool fell from his mouth as he scrubbed, and Tony was glad he hadn't fully dressed him in his pyjamas yet. 

"Okay, spit time," Tony instructed.

"No' clean ye' dada," Peter mumbled.

"You're gonna scrub your teeth off at this rate, Pete. Spit."

Even their morning routine was being taken over by Big Boy Peter.

"I can do it!" he insisted, grabbing the shirt and pants from Steve's grasp.

"You're gonna dress yourself today, huh?" his father asked.

"Uh huh," Peter nodded. 

Which resulted in a twenty minute ordeal of trying to coach the little boy into turning his pants the right way around while he still had one leg stuck inside before explaining that his shirt was inside out. 

But Peter knew when he was defeated by something. Whether it was exhaustion or frustration, he knew when he needed to ask for help.

Steve was sitting on the couch one evening when Peter walked into the living room, his shirt covered in orange juice and his lip trembling. 

"Pete, what happened?" Steve asked, frowning.

"Tried to fill my cup," Peter admit, sadly. "I got the juice all over the floor and all over me. Can you help?"

It was hard to be mad at his solemn confession and plea for help. He wanted so badly to be a big boy and whenever he failed, he always got a little mopey and sad. Especially when it was something he had tried so hard to overcome. 

Something like wetting the bed. 

"Daddy?" Peter whispered, gently tapping Tony's cheek as he slept. "Daddy, please!"

"Mm?" Tony groaned. "Pete? What's up buddy? What time is it?"

"Need help," Peter admit softly. 

"What's wrong?" Tony sat up. "Friday, lights at 10%,"

That's when he saw. Peter had his pants off, covered only by his underwear, as he stood there with red, tear-stained cheeks.

"I didn't mean to," he hurriedly explained. "I thought I h-heard noises in my wardrobe and I needed to g-go but I didn't wanna get up and then...I didn't mean to,"

Tony's heart broke.

"Peter, it's okay buddy," Tony soothed, reaching out to cup the little boy's face in his hand. "Accidents happen, it's not your fault, and it's no big deal, okay?"

"But I tried to clean up and I c-couldn't take the blankets off and now my bed is ruined and-"

"Shh," Tony whispered, leaning down to pull Peter up into his arms. "It's okay. We'll get you cleaned up and you can sleep here tonight, okay? We'll fix your bed in the morning."

"I'm a big boy, I shouldn't go in my bed," Peter whined.

"You are a big boy," Tony assured. "But these are accidents, remember? Big boys make accidents. Even me and papa have accidents. Remember when I spilled my coffee all over the couch the other day?"

Peter nodded, hugging his dad close. 

"I'm a big boy too, aren't I? We all need help sometimes, Pete. Being a big boy doesn't mean you have to do everything on your own."

"Okay," Peter sniffled. "You and papa will help me? Even when I'm big boy?"

"Always," Steve chimed in, his sleepy voice cutting through his son's little cry. "Even when you're the biggest boy, we'll always help you."


End file.
